


Come, My Soldier

by Lunarium



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3808324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was precisely the sort of woman Éowyn would have felt threatened by in her youth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come, My Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> A treat written with much love for Elleth as part of the ShipSwap 2015 fest.

She was precisely the sort of woman Éowyn would have felt threatened by in her youth. Her beauty would have brought upon a fear that she could take her brother away from her and she would be left alone. How she envied the other women, their beauty which her own dumpy young self could never measure up to, and the constant threat of being abandoned, to fence with the other men and women of Rohan without an ally beside her. 

Looking back, Éowyn realizes how irrational, even amusing, the fear was. Her brother was safe from the allure of women, as the enchantment had fallen on her instead. Such as in this exact moment, she could not avert her gaze from the beauty before her. 

The lady was more beautiful than the women from Éowyn’s past. An element, perhaps from elven heritage, clung about her like a crown, setting sparks in silvery eyes which took in the world with silent wonder. A long veil she wove over head and slender shoulders, the fringes glittering against dark sapphire gown.

Though very much aware of her own simple dress and the unruly mess that was her hair, for she had woken not long ago, Éowyn was loath to turn away from the strange and wondrous woman. She appeared lost, alone, turning her head this way and that at the wide alley, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Éowyn wasn’t at her greatest strength, still healing the hurts of battle, but she found herself taking step by step away from the House of Healing, following the woman in curiosity and enchantment. 

They had just rounded a corner, when having heard the footsteps draw too near, the woman gave a gasp and at last spun around. 

“Oh! Pardon, I hope I did not startle!” Éowyn said. 

The lady smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “Rest assure you have not. I do not visit Gondor that frequently, and I believe I have become lost.” 

“I gathered as much,” Éowyn said, “though I am afraid I may not be of much help, as I hail from Rohan. I am called Éowyn.” 

“Lothíriel,” the woman replied and bowed respectively, though it was brief, for she kept her eyes on Éowyn. “Rohan? You were among those in battle?” 

Her smile was of admiration, Éowyn noted, and growing a little confident, eager to drink in more of Lothíriel’s interest in her, she brought herself to her full height and spoke proudly. “Yes. I fought the Witch-king of Angmar! I had just asked the Warden pardon to leave the House of Healing to get a bit of fresh air when I…noticed you.” 

“The House of Healing?” Lothíriel repeated with interest. “May you take me there? Our belief in Dol Amroth is to visit the sick in respect. And it appears you still need rest, so you must get back.” 

“I have not been out that long! Must I return to my bed?” Éowyn spoke this in jest, but in truth she hated the thought of having less time to speak with the woman. The next time she awoke she may never see Lothíriel again. 

Lothíriel chuckled. “I will visit you, every day until your strength fully returns, and if you do not tire of me by then, I may visit you also in Rohan or wherever you decide to settle. That I promise.” 

“I do not think I would ever tire of you,” Éowyn said in earnest, but held back saying more, suddenly fearing she was being frivolous to think so far ahead of her future after speaking with Lothíriel for so short a time. Odder still that not too long ago she once perceived nothing, no life, beyond the morrow, but now the promise of Lothíriel’s company brought with it a trail of other possibilities brightening the days - years - ahead. She sway on the spot with the rushing thoughts in her head. 

Perhaps the fever was returning. Ioreth had worried about that. 

Lothíriel stepped closer and linked their arms together, which Éowyn realized was right on time, for dizzy as she was she almost lost her balance. Her eyes met Lothíriel’s and she drew still for a moment. Lothíriel was preciously the sort of woman she would have felt threatened by in her youth, due to the unfamiliar emotions bursting in her heart. 

Taking Éowyn’s silence for shyness, Lothíriel offered a kind smile. “Come, my solider,” she urged softly, a warm hand over Éowyn’s own, “and lead me to the House of Healing.”


End file.
